"My word, it's cold out here. I thought summers in New York were supposed to be hot!" The three boys that had met earlier were crouched down near a brick wall, waiting for the Yankees White Sox game to end.

"What do you expect? It's nighttime and it's already started drizzling'. I think a storm's coming any minute. You expected to cook an egg on the street?" Race said sarcastically before blowing air into his pale hands to warm them. "Anyway, I can tell you're not really liking New York. I assume from your accent and choice of base ball team that that you're a Chicago boy?"

"I am. I just got here a few weeks ago. And I don't have an accent." The boy responded.

"Right. So why did you leave the lovely state of Illinois anyway? You get sick of the smell of cattle?" He asked.

"Ha, no nothing like that, though you can hear mooing when you pass the slaughter houses. I guess I just needed a change." He sighed, crossing his arms for warmth.

"You traveled thousands of miles, to another state, for just a change?" David asked, now curious. "There's got to be something else."

" You guys are Newsies, right?" The boy asked

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Race responded.

"I saw a hole bunch of papers in your hands when I met you earlier. Plus you mentioned to David that you were off to sell papers." He got back to the subject at hand. "Now I don't know about New York newsies, but in Chicago the saying of my Newsies was 'Don't ask, don't tell.' Now I don't know if that's how it works here, but that's what I go by. My past is unimportant classified information."

" I can accept that." David said. "But I would like to know your name at least."

"Come on Davey, ain't you been payin' attention at all. He's a Newsie. His name is Sport."

Sport gave Race a smile of thanks for the statement. He was excepting him for what he is, not what he once was. The Chicago Newsie had died when Sport had left the city, and he was thankful for that. The past had never been worth remembering for him. Sport looked up, "Hey, I think I hear booing from the stadium, I don't think your Yankees are doing to well." Race looked at a clock near the park. It read 9:30. He started sweating (not literally of course, because it was cold out.) hoping that this boy didn't have expensive taste. He only had a little money on him. Five minutes later, people started walking out of the game.

"Excuse me sir." Sport said, walking up to a random man in a Yankees hat. "Who won the game?"

"The D*** White Sox won my two." He said angrily before walking off.

"Ha, take that Race. I won."

"Yeah, right kid. So where do ya wanna go eat?" He asked.

"Ehh, just forget it." Sport winked.

"Forget it? You won! Don't you wanna collect on those winnings?"

"Nah, I bet for fun, for pride. Not for money."

"You're crazy kid." It began to pour hard from the sky, soaking they boys. "Well, I know a place we can go get some free food and get out of the rain. Follow me.